Recollection
by actressen
Summary: Peter Browning found out about Robert Fischer's Inception through a process called Recollection. Unable to change Fischer's mind, he takes drastic methods to ensure that those responsible pay dearly. Arthur/Ariadne.
1. Peter Browning

_Disclaimer: I only own Inception in my dreams._

**Recollection**

**Chapter One: Peter Browning**

_"Always recognize that human individuals are ends, and do not use them as means to your end."  
><em>-Immanuel Kant

Peter Browning was not a violent man. At least, not usually. No, he much preferred a more subtle plan of action. Conning, tricking, and manipulating to get what he wanted was much more his "style", so to speak. But desperate times called for desperate measures, and this was most certainly a desperate time. He sat down at the head position of a long, mahogany table, clearing his throat to gain the room's attention. On cue, fourteen pairs of eyes turned to stare at him. He didn't keep them waiting. "As you know, Robert Fischer has chosen a most… unusual plan of action. His desire to dissolve the Fischer Morrow empire appeared so suddenly, in fact, that I grew suspicious. When he told me about his idea, I asked him where it came from. And do you know what he told me?" No one answered; they knew the question was rhetorical. "'A dream, Uncle Peter', is what he said, 'a dream'." The room broke out in conspiratorial whispers. _"Could it be?"… "no, no, of course not"… "but what he said, it all points to…"_.

"Inception," Browning confirmed, a solemn expression on his face. Some people gasped. Some remained stoic. Others looked confused. "Yes. While Robert Fischer was flying from Sydney to Los Angeles, an extraction team composed of five members, hired by a Mr. Yasuo Saito -head of Saito Enterprises, entered Robert Fischer's mind and implanted the idea that led to his recent actions." The room was shocked. They were still reeling over the fact that Inception was possible. Suddenly, a woman in a crisp navy dress suit spoke up. "How are we certain Inception was performed? On that note, how could you possibly know so much about the team who performed it? Could it not have just been a very lucid dream?" Some others murmured in agreement.

"Well, you see, we have our own team here at Fischer Morrow, and we preformed Recollection on Mr. Fischer- with his permission, of course." All fourteen people up at Browning, confused. "Wait," a man sitting at the far end of the table asked, "what's Recollection?"

"Recollection is another, relatively new, facet of shared dreaming technology. As you know, memories are stored in the mind. Also, memories are highly connected to dreams, and sleeping, as it is at night that the mind filters through memories, sorting them, and so on and so forth. You can also see the connection in how Projections are simply people, or compilations of people, that the subject has seen before, memories- if you will. Well, because of this link, a team of extractors can go into a person's mind, given the person is asleep, and instead of focusing on the dream, they focus on the subject's memories. Or, in this case, his memory of a dream. When the extraction team got into his head, they quickly recognized all the members of the Inception team. All, that is, except for one." Browning reached into his briefcase, pulling out a thick stack of manila folders. "Here," he said, handing the stack to the man directly to his left, "pass these around." The man nodded, taking a folder for himself before passing it to the person next to him. As the pile of folders circulated around the room, gradually growing smaller, Browning continued.

"Even when I told Mr. Fischer about the Inception, it still didn't change his mind. However, we can't let these criminals walk away freely-" the group murmured their agreement, "So there is only one thing we can do. We can get revenge. And I know exactly how to go about it. Open your folders." Everyone opened their folders and gasped at the picture they saw. "Yes, this mission was headed by the infamous Dom Cobb. Turn the page, I think you'll find the other participants just as familiar." They did as they were told, instantly recognizing the faces of Eames, Arthur, and Yusuf. No one, however, recognized the person in the last image, a petite young woman with wavy brown hair and large brown eyes. Browning answered their questions before they even had a chance to ask, "Ariadne Andrews, twenty-three, studying architecture in Paris. She was also the architect for the Inception team. We'll go after her first. We have reason to believe she is romantically involved with the Point Man, Arthur Giordano, also, considering she's new to the field, her training is minimal. An easy, and unexpected, target."

"So when do we attack?" the woman in the navy dress suit asked.

"One step ahead of you."

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><p>Ariadne sighed as she opened the door to her Paris flat. She knew she could afford better after the Inception job that was completed a little more than a month ago, but this was home. She didn't want to move. Thinking about Inception, she sank down onto her couch, putting her keys and her purse on the coffee table. Almost everything she did made her think about Inception, about Arthur, about the kiss. Every time she closed her eyes, that scene played in her head.<p>

"_Quick, give me a kiss."_

She smiled, biting her lip at the thought. It had been a quick kiss, nothing more than a peck on the lips, but there was that spark, that infamous spark that her friends always talked about. Almost as soon as it began, however, it was over, leaving her wanting more. And then, after they all woke up, they ignored each other, as was the protocol. In her mind she knew this, but she couldn't help but feel disappointed he didn't acknowledge her at all- a smile, a wink, a wave, anything. But no, he just grabbed his bag and left. She knew it was silly, it was just a kiss, after all. He most likely didn't mean anything by it- she didn't even know his last name.

It wasn't until she got back to Paris a few days later that her old insecurities came back to haunt her. She was sure Arthur would want someone prettier, someone taller, someone more experienced. After all, her sole focus for all her dating years was school, and later, her career.

It was then that she heard footsteps. She jumped to her feet, suddenly on high alert. "Hello?" she called out, hoping it was just paranoia. She noticed her bedroom door was open, which was odd, considering she had a strange habit of closing all her doors before she left her flat. She cautiously opened the door, and screamed when a hand grabbed her wrist.

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><p>Miles looked out at his class, noticing the empty seat in the front row. That struck him as peculiar; Ariadne never missed class without calling him to explain beforehand. At the end of the day, he walked to where he knew Ariadne lived, concerned. To his horror, their was a police car stationed in front of the door. A small group of people (other residents of the apartment building, he suspected), had gathered around, gossiping in french. He approached the police officer cautiously. "Could you please tell me, sir, what happened here?"<p>

The police officer looked rather miffed, but responded anyway. "Some grad student's gone missing. We got called about a domestic disturbance, only to find the apartment empty and in a state of disarray. The guess is she's been kidnapped."

Miles silently cursed his son-in-law as he turned to head home. He quickly dialed a number on his phone. "Dom," he said, "we have a problem."

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><p><strong>AN: <strong>I know this isn't the second chapter, but with loads of help from** InkPhantom, **one of my new betas, I was able to revise this chapter. I really appreciate it, InkPhantom (I actually cringed at some of the mistakes you pointed out). I have no doubt that my collaboration with a few betas will greatly improve this story and make it much more enjoyable. Thanks once again!

I'll be putting up chapter two soon, within the next few days :)


	2. The Point Man

**Disclaimer: **I once had a wonderful dream that I owned _Inception_. But then I woke up. (So no, it's not mine).

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><p><strong>Chapter 2: The Point Man<strong>

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><p><em>"The fog is rising."<br>_-last words of Emily Dickinson

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><p>For the first time in almost two years, Dominic Cobb could say he was truly happy. Sitting on his back porch, he was contented to just watch his children play. Phillipa chased a butterfly, her net barely missing the flying insect. James was playing in the dirt, switching between digging with his hands and a stick, putting anything that moved into a pail for further examination, oblivious to the fact that most of the creatures he had put in crawled right back out. He still missed Mal, he still didn't dream, and he still ran to his totem every few seconds, assuring himself of reality, but, overall, Cobb was happy.<p>

And then his phone rang.

Cobb pulled his cell phone out of his pocket, never taking his eyes off his kids or checking the caller ID. "Cob speaking."

_"Dom,"_ His breath caught; he could tell by his father-in-law's tone that something was very wrong. _"We have a problem."_

"What's wrong?" He did his best to keep his tone calm, he didn't want to alarm his children.

_"Ariadne's gone."_

"Gone? What do you mean, _gone_?"

_"Kidnapped. At least, that's what they suspect."_

"They?"

_"The Police."_ Cobb could hear Miles sigh, exasperated. _"Dom, what did you get her into?"_

"Apparently, more than I thought."

The line went dead. Cobb could understand his father-in-law's agitation. _Where could she be? _He could see the appeal of anyone after the Inception team going after her first. She had the least experience, the least training. He highly doubted that she even kept any weapon on her. If a hit man broke into her apartment, she wouldn't have stood a chance. Cobb silently cursed himself for not realizing the possibility sooner. He looked longingly at his children, but he knew he had to help Ariadne; He'd gotten her into this situation, he had to get her out of it. But he knew he couldn't do it alone. He'd have to get the team back together.

He immediately went to dial the number of the most reliable member of his team, Arthur. But something stopped him from hitting the call button. A memory. Back when they were preparing for the Fischer job, Ariadne had been showing Arthur her plans for the second level. Her eyes sparkled and her voice was full of enthusiasm. And the way Arthur was looking at her... _Shit_. How had he not realized it before? Well, then again, his mind was elsewhere, but, in retrospect, it all made sense. If whoever had gone after Ariadne knew enough about her to know her connection to the team, they probably knew enough to know her connection to Arthur.

This made everything a bit more difficult. "James! Phillipa! Time to come in!" He needed to make this call in private, and he sure as hell wasn't leaving his kids outside unsupervised- especially not now. "But _daddy_…" James moaned.

"No buts, James. Daddy has to make a phone call. But you can watch TV, okay?"

"Okay!"

"James?"

"Yeah, dad?"

"Leave the bugs outside."

"But _daddy…_"

"The bugs stay outside." Cobb didn't mean to snap, but his patience was being worn thin. "Okay, buddy?"

"Fine…" James grumbled. "Come on, Phillipa! I need you to work the TV!" James dragged his older sister along by the hand to the living room. Cobb closed and locked the back door behind them. After checking in on his kids, he went into his office and closed the door behind him. He had a feeling this wouldn't be pretty. Sitting comfortably in his leather office chair, he hit the call button.

_"You've reached Arthur Giordano."_

"Arthur! Can anyone overhear this conversation?"

_"Cobb? No, I'm just in my hotel room. Cobb, what's going on?"_ Cobb could distinctly hear a door close on the other end.

"Ariadne…" Cobb was unable to finish his sentence, so he tried again. "Arthur, Ariadne's been kidnapped." Hearing a string of expletives he'd never heard from Arthur before, followed by a crash, Cobb held the phone a few inches away from his ear.

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><p>Arthur couldn't believe what he was hearing. The words played themselves over and over in his head like a broken record, and the phone dropped from his hand. <em>Ariadne's been kidnapped. Ariadne's been kidnapped. <em>He sank down onto his hotel bed, swearing, picking up his phone again, and then collecting himself. He was a Point Man. This was part of his job- he had to be rational, logical, and even tempered all the time. He couldn't let emotions control him. He sighed loudly. "How would they even know about her? She only ever did one job!"

_"I don't know."_

"Do we at least have any leads?"

_"No. It could be anyone that has ever had anything against any of the team members. You know how long these corporations hold on to things."_

Arthur swore again.

_"Arthur, you have feelings for her, don't you?"_

"Cobb, this isn't the time for that."

_"I disagree. And don't avoid the question, Arthur."_

Arthur mumbled something unintelligible.

_"What was that, Arthur?"_

"I kissed her, Cobb," Arthur ran a hand through his hair in frustration. "On the Fischer job, second level."

"_Arthur!"_

"I know, I know, Cobb. I don't know what I was thinking. Goddamnit, this wasn't supposed to happen." Arthur paused, "well, what do we do now?"

_"First, we need to contact Yusuf and Eames. If Ariadne's at risk, then we all are."_

"Wait. Do you think Fischer-Morrow had something to do with this?"

_"Anything's possible."_

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><p>The first thing Ariadne noticed was that she was sore. Her ribs ached and her left eye was swollen shut. The concrete floor felt cold and damp beneath her. She groaned, maneuvering herself into a sitting position. Slowly, she looked around, taking in her surroundings. It was a makeshift jail cell. Brick walls on three sides, rusting iron bars on one. The musty air and moss-ridden walls added to the foreboding aura the room gave off. The furnishings were minimal- a toilet, a sink, and a tiny cot. "<em>Hello<em>?" she called. The only response was her own voice echoing off the walls. Growing desperate, she got up and shook the bars of her cell. "_Hello_?". Silence. She fell to her knees, resting her forehead against the iron bars, and remembered a conversation that seemed like it had taken place years ago.

_She and Arthur were the only ones left. Struck with inspiration for the third level, she had quickly lost track of time. Arthur sat at his work place across from her, checking and cross-checking facts about Robert Fischer. The rest of the team was long gone. After she had followed Cobb into his dream two days ago, he no longer stayed late to run any "tests". The only noise in the room was the shuffling of papers and the scrape of pencil on paper._

_Surprisingly, it was Arthur that spoke first._

_"You do know what you're getting into, don't you?"_

_His voice broke her concentration, and she tore her eyes from the model to look at him. She faltered under the intensity of his gaze. "Yeah. I mean, I know it's not... legal, and everything like that. Of course."_

_He sighed. "No, Ariadne. What I mean is, do you know the risks?"_

_"What, like getting caught?"_

_"It's not just getting caught, Ariadne. We're dealing with multi-_billion _dollar corporations. If this doesn't work, there'll be a price on all our heads."_

_She didn't flinch, or appear apprehensive in any way, like he had expected. Instead, she looked him straight in the eyes. "Well, then I guess failure isn't an option," she told him, her voice void of any sign of fear or nagging doubts, before returning to her work._

Ariadne wondered if situations like the one she was in now was what Arthur was referring to all those weeks ago. Thinking of Arthur, she wondered if he and the rest of the team would ever realize she was missing. She hoped they did, as she knew they were the only ones with a chance at finding her.

Hearing footsteps coming down the corridor, she took a few steps away from the bars, hoping it would make her less noticeable.

"Well, well, well. What do we have here?" The voice was malicious, riddled with spite and free of empathy. Nervously, she glanced up, remembering how she had come to be here in the first place.

_She tried to fight him off, but he had the advantage. She got in a few punches, giving him a bloody nose. When that happened, he backed into her coffee table, knocking it over and shattering the vase that sat on top. The water pooled on the floor, the daisies mixing with glass shards. He lunged back at her, and he clawed and kicked and fought until the chloroform-soaked rag was forced over her mouth and nose, forcing her to breathe in the fumes._

She gasped in recognition at the man who was undoubtedly the mastermind behind her capture.

"P-Peter Browning?"

"The real one, this time."

She couldn't help but compare his malicious grin to Arthur's genuine lopsided smile. _Oh, Arthur, _she thought, _what have I gotten into?_

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><p><strong>AN: <strong>Wow, a lot of work went into this chapter. First, I must give a special shout out to **InkPhantom** for being my beta, and not checking over this chapter for me once, but _**twice **_(as well for dealing with some of my grievously stupid and embarrassing errors).

You may note that I started this chapter with a fitting quote. I adore quotes, and I figured this would be a great way to use them. Let me know your thoughts about that. Also, I hadn't heard back from one of my betas when I posted this chapter, but I couldn't resist :). I'll probably post an updated version when I hear back from them.

I also wanted to say a thank you to all the people who subscribed, favorited, and reviewed- but especially to those who reviewed. Your comments make my day. I know I don't respond to all of them, but I think you'd rather I spend more time writing and reviewing new chapters with my beta than replying to all your (wonderful) reviews (but do let me know if I'm wrong). However, if you do ask a question in your review, I'll be sure to respond to that. So, with that, please leave a review with any comments, questions, or suggestions you may have for this story; it takes ten seconds and it makes a world of difference (and I promise, the review button doesn't bite).


	3. Guilt and Daydreams

**Disclaimer: I only own Inception on Blu-Ray and DVD. **

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><p><strong>Chapter 3: Guilt and Daydreams<strong>

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><p>"<em>Absence diminishes small loves and increases great ones, as the wind blows out the candle and blows up the bonfire."<br>_-François de la Rochefoucauld

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><p>They were back at the warehouse.<p>

Was it the smartest plan of action? Probably not. But they didn't know where else to go. So the group was back together- well, most of the group was, anyway. But it didn't feel complete without their Architect.

They sat in a haphazard circle in plastic folding chairs. An unbearable silence filled the air, punctuated only by the tapping of Eames's foot on the concrete, as no one had anything to say. They had no leads, no clues. They had nothing, and nowhere to start.

Arthur was the one affected the worst. He was starting to look a little rugged, a stark comparison to his usual meticulous grooming. His dark brown hair was a little scruffy, and he had the beginnings of stubble on his chin. He even had a small cut on his right cheek where he had nicked himself with his razor blade. It hadn't gone unnoticed by the others.

Eames's first words to him had been "Who are you and where in the bloody blazes did you put Arthur?". Arthur didn't smile, but that was expected. However, he didn't retort either.

Even Eames was taken aback by that.

After they had sat down in their chairs, there was silence. Eames, being his usual tactless self, was the first one to speak. "Do we know if Ariadne was their target, or is she being used as bait?"

"Does it matter, Eames?" Arthur snapped, not even turning to look at him.

"Well, actually, it does matter. If she's bait we're looking for a person, if she was their target, we're looking for a body."

Arthur growled at the statement, turning to glare at Eames. "Don't you dare say that."

Eames held up his hands, as if he had just been caught by a cop. "Sorry, sorry. Didn't mean to step on any toes," his trademark smirk appeared on his face, and he looked like a cat who had just caught a mouse. Cobb groaned, this wouldn't end well. "Does our Point Man have _feelings _for the little Architect?". Eames waggled his eyebrows suggestively.

"Back off, Eames." Arthur's scowl deepened.

"Be careful, darling, or your face will freeze like that." It was then that Arthur really wished that looks could kill.

"I'd say," Cobb interrupted, knowing it wouldn't help if Arthur and Eames got into a fist fight, "that they're after all of us. I'd guess that Ariadne's being used as bait. She's the rookie- she doesn't have the training that we have, or the experience. Whoever it was probably thought that she'd be the easiest to capture. I'd say, right now, we're just waiting for a clue. A signal- something. It wouldn't be any use to start looking for her now. She could be anywhere in the world."

"So we do nothing, then?" Arthur said, trying to contain his anger.

"For now, Arthur, it's all we can do," Cobb replied, wary of Arthur, much like one would be wary of a smoking volcano.

"So we just wait, then?" Eames threw in.

"Exactly. It would be best to stay in one place, make it easier for them to find us. Make sure to keep an eye out at all times."

The brief conversation ended as awkwardly as it had began. At some point, Eames and Yusuf had mumbled something about returning to their hotels and left, leaving Arthur and Cobb alone in the warehouse. Cobb didn't want to leave yet. He knew Arthur needed someone to listen to him. For Cobb, that person had been Ariadne. Since Ariadne wouldn't be able to help Arthur, he'd have to take her place.

"I'm a mess, Cobb," Arthur said quietly. "I have no idea what to do. I don't know who else to go to. The _guilt_, it's eating me alive."

"What guilt?"

"That I left her. I never told her what she meant to me. I tried to distance myself from her, but I couldn't. So then, after the job was done, I saw my opportunity to just walk away. So I took it. After a while, I realized that I needed to see her again, needed to explain, but I had no idea how to find her. I knew I could find her through you and Miles, but I didn't want to tell anyone else. I don't even know her last name, Cobb."

"Andrews," Cobb replied.

"Not my point."

"Arthur, when we find her, you'll have plenty of time to apologize and get to know everything about her. And maybe then get married and have babies if you want to. But now, go back to your hotel and get some rest. If you really want to help Ariadne, you need to pull yourself together."

Arthur gave him a humorless smile. "Thanks, Cobb."

"Don't mention it." Cobb patted Arthur on the shoulder before leaving. Arthur took one last look around the room. A flash of green caught his eye. Intrigued, he went to investigate. Under one of the tables, by one of the legs, was a green silk scarf. He fell to his knees and took it, feeling the fabric between his fingers.

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><p><em>He watched in amusement as she walked into the warehouse, coffee in hand, bag slung over her shoulder, scarf hanging from her neck. Today it was a cream-colored crocheted lace, obviously meant for fashion rather than function. <em>

"_You do know it's one of the nicest October days we've had in years out there, don't you?" he asked as she took her sketches out of her bag, laying them across her workspace. She just shrugged._

"_It's never too warm for a scarf."_

_Arthur had anticipated that response. After all, it was his job to study people, mainly future subjects, until he knew them better than they knew themselves. Their favorite color, past relationships, friendships, mannerisms- anything that could have an impact on their dreams. He needed to understand people well enough to be able to predict their reactions. He supposed that doing it for as long as he had, it had become second nature. Ariadne was particularly interesting to him; just when he thought he had figured her out, she would do something that would surprise him. _

_Except when it came to how she dressed. _

_It had been one of the first things he had noticed about her when Cobb first introduced them. The first thing he had noticed was how young she looked, followed quickly by how short she was. Then he noticed her clothes- extremely casual and loose-fitting, as basic as clothing could get. And then there was the red paisley silk scarf hanging around her neck. He took note of that, thinking it was rather odd. But then he saw what she wore the next day. And the next. He realized that was her signature look: jeans, t-shirt, a sweater if needed, and a scarf. Only once had he seen her wear the same scarf twice. _

_He had once asked her why she always wore scarves._

_She turned around and asked him why he always wore suits. _

_Cobb walked in and they went back to work. Neither got their answer._

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><p>He couldn't help but smile at the memories. "I'm coming for you, Ariadne," he whispered, putting the scarf in his jacket pocket.<p>

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><p>Ariadne shivered in her cot. She had no idea where she was, or how long she'd been there. Considering the cold, she doubted she was in the southern hemisphere, but that was all. There were no windows, just a bare bulb flickering in the hallway outside her cell. Most of the time she was alone. She feared for her sanity if she was stuck in here for too long. She had absolutely nothing to do. She spent her days daydreaming, thinking, sometimes singing, or even talking to herself. Or sometimes she just lay there, doing nothing.<p>

Then again, being alone was better than the alternative. The only time they ever visited her cell was to feed her or to try to force information out of her. It wouldn't do them any good, though. She didn't know anything about her former team members. Even if she did, she would never betray them. So she just lay there, letting them kick and hit her, doing her best to keep from crying out. She didn't want to give them that satisfaction.

She worried that no one was looking for her. She didn't have any close family left, nor did she have many close friends. Could she survive here for months? Years, even? Did she even want to? She knew that thinking was a dangerous path, so she tried to keep away from it. Sometimes, she dreamed that Arthur would rescue her- be her knight in shining armor (or a three-piece suit). Life wasn't a fairytale, and she knew that, but it was a much happier thought than the others floating around in her head. So, she daydreamed of Arthur.

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><p><strong><span>AN (Important! Please Read!)<span>: **Well, dear readers, I have good news and bad news. Good news: As you can see, I posted a new chapter. Bad news: my main beta, InkPhantom, will be unable to help me for a few weeks.** So there are two options: either I post unbeta'd chapters or I go on a quick hiatus until she is available again. Please let me know which you'd prefer. **As always, please drop a review on you way out.

Go on, hit that review button right down there. I know you want to! :)

Until next time,  
>Actressen<p> 


	4. The Letter

**A/N**: Normally I don't put author's notes first, but this is an important authors note. First, I want to apologize for how long it took me to get this chapter up. I lost my beta and quite a bit of my inspiration, so I'm struggling. Please excuse any mistakes in this chapter, it remains un-beta'd except for a quick check-over by yours truly. In slightly happier news, today is my birthday and I'd love a review as a present!

**Disclaimer: Inception belongs to Christopher Nolan and Co. (aka not me)**

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><p><strong>Chapter 4: The Letter<strong>

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><p><em>"Anybody ever asks you what the sweetest thing in life is- ... it's revenge"<br>- Kurt Vonnegut, Slaughter-House-Five_

Arthur looked down at the letter in his hands.

_As soon as he entered his hotel room, the phone began to ring. Surprised, he cautiously went to answer it. "Hello?"_

"_Mr. Giordano?"_

"_Yes?"_

"_This is Kelly from the front desk. We have a letter for you." _A letter? Who would be sending me a letter? God help Eames if this was his sick idea of a joke_, he thought, _but it could be…

"_Yes, yes, I'll be right down." _

Now, sitting on the queen-sized bed, he stared at the cream-colored envelope in his hands, preparing himself for whatever might be inside. With shaking hands, he ripped it open, pulling out the folded parchment. Opening it, a small object fell into his lap. Upon further inspection, he recognized it as a lock of very familiar golden brown hair. Putting it back in the envelope, he quickly turned his attention to the letter itself.

_We have your precious architect. _

_ -F.M._

Placing the letter back into its envelope, Arthur shoved it into his jacket pocket along with his hotel key and his cell phone. He had to show this to Cobb.

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><p>Phillipa Cobb tiptoed down the staircase, one hand gribbing the railing and the other hugging her teddy bear to her chest. She might have only been seven, but she was smart. She knew something was going on with her dad. He told her they were going to visit Grandpa, and they did, but she knew there had to be something else going on. She just hoped he wouldn't have to leave again, like after her mother died. Finally reaching the bottom step, she heard muffled voices coming from her grandpa's office. Her curiosity piqued, she pressed her ear to the door. She heard her dad's voice, hushed and angry-sounding, and a familiar, heavily controlled voice she hadn't heard in a long time. <em>Uncle Arthur! <em>But what was he doing here? Nervously, she tapped on the door.

The voices stopped, and she heard footsteps coming closer and closer. When the door was opened, she was excited to see Arthur, just as she remembered him, with his slicked-back hair and tan three-piece suit. "Phillipa? What are you doing up?" He asked her quietly.

"I had a nightmare," she whispered back, giving her teddy bear a squeeze. Sighing, Arthur picked her up and brought her inside.

"Cobb, we have a visitor." Arthur sat back down on the sofa, Phillipa's arms still wrapped around his neck.

Cobb raised an eyebrow. "I can see that. Phillipa, why aren't you in bed?"

"Bad dream," she mumbled, resting her head against Arthur's shoulder.

"Do you want to talk about it?" Arthur asked.

She sat up and shook her head, looking at Arthur. She was shocked at how sad he seemed- she hadn't noticed it before. "What's wrong, Uncle Arthur?". Arthur looked away. Was it that noticeable?

"Nothing, Phillipa. Don't worry about it."

"Okay, sweetie," Cobb said, taking his daughter from Arthur, "Let's go back to bed." Phillipa nodded, her nightmare forgotten. She had never seen Arthur look so upset. It was disconcerting.

As her father tucked her into bed, she couldn't help but repeat her question. "Daddy, why is Uncle Arthur so sad?"

Cobb paused. Should he answer her question, or shrug it off like Arthur did? He sighed, realizing that if he didn't give his daughter some sort of answer she'd keep on asking until she got one.

"Something bad happened to someone Uncle Arthur cares about very much."

"Like what happened to mommy?"

Cobb hesitated. "Kind of."

Phillipa just nodded before closing her eyes, "G'night, daddy."

Cobb kissed her on her forehead, relieved that she was satisfied with his answer, before turning out the light and heading back downstairs to Arthur.

"Sorry about that."

"It's no problem."

"So," Cobb began, gesturing at the open letter and the lock of hair lying on the desk, "What do we do about this?"

"Well, at least now we know who took her. There's only one F.M. who has a score to settle with us- Fischer Morrow. Now we have something to work with."

"Well, research is what you're best at, Arthur. I'll let Yusuf and Eames know. You can get straight to work. But now you should go back and get some sleep. You won't do Ariadne any good collapsing from exhaustion."

"Thanks, Cobb." Arthur was, quite honestly, somewhat relieved. He didn't feel so helpless anymore. He could be doing something to help find her.

It was that thought that helped him sleep that night.

* * *

><p><em>He didn't know what first attracted him to her. Maybe it was her enthusiasm, her obvious intelligence, or her perceptive and questioning nature. Maybe it was the way she'd always smile at him, or all those hours of companionable silence spent in the warehouse. <em>

_All he knew, is that by the time he realized the dangerous path he was traveling down, it in many ways, it was already too late. So he panicked. He saw her trying to catch his eye in the airport, smiling widely at him. But instead of seeing her, he saw Mal. He saw Cobb, and what had become of him. So he didn't smile back. He just walked away, without looking back. _

_Even though he didn't see her face, he knew her smile had faded. He took a deep breath, tightened his grip on his suitcase, and kept walking. He was a Point Man, and he was doing one of the things Point Men do best: hide their feelings until they forget they have them._

Arthur shot up in bed, his breathing quick and shallow and his heart pounding. He exhaled deeply, resting his head against the headboard. He ran a shaking hand through his hair. He knew he hadn't been dreaming- he hadn't dreamed in years. No, these weren't dreams, or even nightmares. These were memories.


End file.
